The Chronicles of Darkness: Rose Petal Skin
by ToriHouji
Summary: Jon Irenicus, interred in Spellhold, tells the tale of why he did what he did.
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Chronicles of Darkness: Rose Petal Skin

Author: The Authoress )

Rating: PG, for adult situations

Disclaimer: Imoen, Bodhi, Queen Ellisime, and Joneleth "Jon" Irenicus are owned by Black Isle Studios. Rillifane Rallathil and Corellon Larethian are owned by Wizards of the Coast Inc. I gain no money for the distribution of this fanfiction, only momentary pleasure and entertainment.

(That sounded remarkably like some other way of wasting time! Think about it.)

The Chronicles of Darkness: Rose Petal Skin

I'll always remember that she had rose petal skin. You know what I mean. Have you ever plucked a petal from a rose that has just bloomed? It has that unbelievable silky feeling, like raw silk, but there's something in it, something so unerringly lifelike, that you can just tell that it came from something full of beauty and life. That is how her skin felt under my hands.

Ah...yes. I'm getting quite ahead of myself, aren't I? I was asked a question, wasn't I? I feel still that I'm being far too polite to a weakling like you, but you _are_ a lady, and politeness in ladies shows good breeding.

They always called me the most brilliant mage they had ever seen. They lauded me for my power, my intelligence. Not only could I dazzle the eye and mind, feed your intellect and soul, but I could also please physically, both in bed and in the battlefield. I was the golden boy of the court. I felt as if I needed nothing more. I had the love of my people, the love of the court, and the love of the Queen. True love, not just admiration. The kind of love that makes you feel warm, the kind of love that lets you know, as rock-hard fact, that you would do anything for this person if it made them happy. That you were happy as long as they were happy, and although it scared you, you were willing to do it, without hesitation.

They _are_ a lot alike, Imoen and Ellisime. About the same height, beautiful red hair, and the same skin. Rose petal skin. I remember that I used to marvel over Ellisime after a long night. I would stay awake for hours, just staring at her as she slept. Feeling the smooth, soft skin of her shoulder. I never felt happier in my life than those times.

Ellisime is a classic, exotic beauty. Her almond eyes, high cheekbones, green eyes...I could go on. Imoen was a lot the same. But, she was more...human, obviously. She was burnt and toasted by the sun, her muscles powerful from the marches and fighting. She was beautiful as well, but not in the same way as Ellisime.

But, anyway. I keep losing my place. As I said, I was happy and content with where I was. At least, I _think_ I was content. But, some people have a little voice in the back of their heads, the little voice that tells them it could be better, that they could do better, that good enough is never good enough. Unfortunately, that little voice wasn't in my head. It was in my sister, Bodhi. She had no ambition for anything in her own life, simply ambition for me. She _knew_ that she had no power, and that I had it all. She would use me for her machinations. She eventually convinced me that I was much stronger than everyone around me told me. She told me that I could gain more power from siphoning it from the Tree of Life, the ancient symbol of the Elves, and the tree that the Palace of the Moon rested on. To become one of the Seldarine, the high ruling gods of the Elvish pantheon. So, we tried. And failed.

The gods were harsh on me. Corellon Larethian, the Lord of the Elves, and Rillafane Rallathil, the patron protector of Suldanessalar, and the father of Queen Ellisime, along with the queen herself decided to do the worst possible thing to my sister and me that could be done to an Elf. They stripped us of our Elvish souls. Detached us from the connection to the Tree that all Elves had.

I stood there, in front of the gateway to Suldanessalar, staring into the eyes of my love. She stared sadly, as the gateway closed. In a few moments, we were staring at a simple tree, indistinguishable from all the other trees in the forest.

I fell to my knees, screaming, crying, vomiting upon myself. I pounded against the tree, screaming and begging to be let back in. Bodhi stood there, staring at me as I sobbed hysterically. She looked at me, disgusted.

"Are you quite done, Joneleth? _I'm_ going to Athkatla, and finding some way to get rid of this ridiculous curse. If you want to stop being an idiot, you can find me there." She walked away from me.

I stayed there in that forest for three days, praying to the gods above and below to forgive me and let me come back. I felt nothing, heard nothing. I was slowly losing my Elfhood. I followed Bodhi to Athkatla, and found her, different. Her long blonde hair had become short, black, and wiry. Her skin was a deathly pale white. She had contracted vampirism to try to counter the curse. It was of no use. I looked at myself for the first time in three days. I had lost all of my hair; I had grown stockier, tougher, more muscular. It frightened me at first, but I eventually got used to it.

I made my lab under Waukeen's Promenade, trying at first to elicit the same love and lust that I had felt while with Ellisime. I captured dryads and kept them in an artificial grove. I built an exact replica of Ellisime's bedroom, and cloned her through magic. It was of no use. I felt nothing, could remember _nothing_. Then, Bodhi reminded me of what my people, my gods, and my love had done to me, to _us_. We would try again to become Seldarine, to become as powerful as possible. We would hold Suldanessalar under siege, and steal the power of the Tree again. But, the words of the great prophet Alaundo were spoken to me by a voice in my dreams: _The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sewn from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo._

I had heard of the Time of Troubles; very few who had been born in Toril had not heard the tales. I pondered what this must mean. Why would I be interested in the bastard children of Bhaal? The answer came to me quickly. To be the child of a god, a bloodchild, you must hold a piece of their divine essence. To replace the semi-divinity granted in us by once being Tel'Quessir, "The People", we must find something to replace it, hopefully something much more powerful. Now, just to find two of the Bhaalspawn.

I had heard the stories of Imoen and...the other. Those who had killed their brother, another of the Bhaalspawn. Unfortunately, I only was sure of the sibling, and not of Imoen. But, after I captured them, it became obvious that Imoen was a Bhaalspawn as well. Where Gorion had found the girl, I couldn't say. She put up quite a fight at first, the spirited little thing. She appealed to me, reminding me of Ellisime, not arousing the same response, of course, but enough like her for me to try experimenting on her. Nothing happened, but I was able to get her to change into the shape of the Slayer, the demon soul within. I had her locked in a cage, and I had sent in one of my smiths, a disgusting, vile, drunken duergar in the cage, to see if she was too weak to deal with him. I locked the door on the girl and the dwarf that reeked of fecal matter. He approached her, a lascivious smile on his face, and I could see the immediate change in Imoen. She seemed to burst from her skin, becoming this demon, and...ah. I simply smiled and laughed as she tore this man apart. The blood sprayed everywhere, and in a bit, he was nothing but a hallowed corpse. It was the first time I had laughed in years. She would be for Bodhi, her sibling for me. It was perfect.

I hate being in this cell. Those bastards here at the Asylum have no clue what I'm planning. My only repose is seeing Imoen every day at meals and free time. She is still so scared of me...

Ah, guard is changing. This is my time to fly.

Author's Note:

I tried to play Irenicus into more of a Hannibal Lecter character. Hannibal is very polite, aside from eating people. I tried to portray Jon as more of this kind of person. He justifies his ideas in the same way that Dr. Lecter did: that he was making the world better by weeding out those who were rude or crude. Irenicus, in a way, has this same sociopathic outlook on life. I also tried to play more on the sympathies of the reader by including how he got to this point. I'm not trying to justify the horrors that he committed, I'm just trying to show that he was once a person, and trying (by spending far too much free time psychologically analyzing a computer game character) to dig into his actions and come up with something that would drive him, something that would cause him to do what he did. I hope that I did a proper job, and if ANYONE who is from Black Isle and read this, I would love your feedback on this. Hey, I'd love ANY feedback!

Katie


	2. Author's Note

Author's Note: "Psychiatric Evaluation of a Madman"

"The Chronicles of Darkness: Rose Petal Skin" is my first endeavor into finishing a fanfic. I have written them before, but never before have I finished one. I portrayed Irenicus as more of a "Hannibal Lecter" type character, because that is how I saw him. Lecter was a sociopath, yes, but he was not a mindless sociopath. He killed those he found rude. I also saw that Irenicus was not a mindless sociopath. He avoided others because he was ashamed of himself, but he still showed a semblance of humanity with the fact that he was willing to help Bodhi. I don't believe that, as others have argued, that Bodhi was more powerful than Irenicus, and that is why he helped her get a soul. A paltry fight, and some stakes and holy water was all it took the CHARNAME and Co. to kill her, so it would make sense that Irenicus, many times as powerful than CHARNAME and Co., would have nothing to fear from his sister. No, I believe that his helping her was what little bit of humanity he had left in his soul.  
So, that is how I have seen Irenicus. This was gleaned from hours upon hours of gameplay and psychiatric evalutation of a madman. 


End file.
